


I Can Be Your Hero, Baby (I Can Kiss Away The Pain)

by Pandan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Nude Sharing, Accidental Voyeurism, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Avengers Family, BDSM, Bisexuality, Brother/Brother Incest, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Cousin Incest, Drunk Texting, Erik Killmonger Grows up in Wakanda, Erik Killmonger Has Feelings, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Humor and Hijinks, Implied/Referenced Incest, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexuality Crisis, Sexuality and Identity, T'challa and Steve Rogers are Best Friends, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Voyeurism, pansexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandan/pseuds/Pandan
Summary: "I can be your hero, baby. I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away."Steve is really happy with the way things turned out after the Civil War. He has a family now, one that he would kill to protect. But when Peter sends him something he never thought he would see, his world begins to spiral out of control. But luckily, he has people who'll support him through it.Or: The one in which Peter Parker (drunkenly, accidentally) sends Steve Rogers a lewd photo and life changes for the both of them (and some others) permanently.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger/Loki, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Parker/Original Male Character, Peter Parker/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/T'Challa, background Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. New Message from Peter "Spiderman" Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve contemplates how things ended up the way they are (and acts as our exposition dump) and gets a text from Peter. Things don't end well.
> 
> Fun fact: Autocorrect kept changing Clint to Clit, so Pan is dying now. Not Beta'd Folks! Enjoy the smut, it's my (Dan) first attempt. I'm a virgin, lol, so I had to rely on what Pan told me and Porn.

Tony Stark was the only reason Steve had one of these new fandangle smartphones, if it were up to himself - Steve Rogers would have stayed without one. But, no, Tony insisted on carrying around the device. And sure, it had proven useful on many occasions but a part of him still didn't feel comfortable using it. Technology had come so far in such a short period - it was a lot to process and get used to that's for certain.

Steve hopped in the shower. His large hands turned the dial up to steaming hot - just the way he liked it on a cold night like this. He ran his fingers skin vigorously to wash off the dirt and sweat he worked up from his exercise session with T'challa. The King of Wakanda surely knew how to exercise, he worked every muscle in Steve's body and then some - skills that not even Bucky could manage sometimes. 

Steve was...happy, with the way things turned out. 

Yeah, happy was the best way to describe it. 

The Sokovia Accords almosts tore them apart. It was brutal and horrific to experience. The lies, the needless violence, the guilt - it all felt surreal to him. To think that he and Tony were at such bitter odds that they would drag their friends into the crossfires. The violence. The hurt in Wanda's eyes when she had to fight Vision. The burning guilt in James' face while they fought - how much he wanted to stop his best friend and tell them that this wasn't worth it. 

But it brought good things too - meeting T'Challa for the first time, being amazed by the King's agility and speed. Seeing the starstruck look on Peter Parker's face. Dealing with Scott Lang's suit was a pain in the ass, but he marvelled secretly at how talented the self-proclaimed thief was. 

Steve didn't know how they managed to survive it. When Tony found out that it was Bucky who was responsible for his parent's death, Steve thought that was the end of it. There was no going up from here. They would never be a family again. 

But then, Bucky went to sleep for a little while and Tony and Steve went separate places to clear their heads. All the fighting and pain, it wasn't worth what they had built together. This dysfunctional family of superhuman weirdos, as Natasha once called it, was everything to them both. Steve couldn't handle being on his on in this...this cruel new world of theirs. He didn't fit in, no matter how much he wanted too. 

He belonged in that tower, with them. And Tony, well, Tony had lost too much to be on his own.

Tony Stark was no better than an empty-hearted drunk when he was alone. Pepper wasn't there to hold him close and the suit didn't have meaning if he didn't have anyone to protect. But salvation came to Tony in the form of a brown-haired boy who looked up to him, who wanted to be like him. And secretly, Steve thanked the heavens above that Peter Parker worshipped the floor that Tony walked on. 

He wasn't sure if Tony could have held on without the kid.

The water in the tap turned off when Steve hopped out of the shower. He dried himself off quickly, he wasn't one to waste time in the bathroom after all. He did his routine - shave, wash his face, brush his teeth - it wasn't anything special. Nighttime was supposed to be to unwind from the hassles of the day, after all.  
  
He slipped into a pair of loose-fitting grey pyjama pants and a white-T-shirt. Heading into his bedroom, he collapsed onto his bed. He heard his phone vibrate against the wood of his end table. He picked it up, not quite used to the light-weight device yet. Tony laughed and said that Steve's was an "older model" and that new devices were even slicker and thinner but twice as powerful. Steve couldn't fathom how. He looked at the locked screen.

**New Message From T'challa (Panther)**

He opened the messaging app with a small smile on his face.

_T'challa (Panther) - I wasn't too harsh on you today, was I? Still not used to exercising with someone yet._

_Steve Rogers (America) - It's alright, T'challa. I'm good. It was fun._

_T'challa (Panther) - I'm very glad about that then. Have a goodnight, Steve._

_Steve Rogers (America) - Goodnight, T'challa._

T'challa was a close friend now (Peter said that T'challa was Steve's Bro but the word didn't make sense to him, they weren't brothers) and he treasured the time they spent together. It was because Bucky went to sleep that Steve ended up visiting Wakanda, meeting Erik and Shuri for the first time and talking to T'challa on someplace other than a battlefield. The two shared similar interests and views, and became fast friends, much to the amazement of T'challa's family who informed him that he was quite anti-social during his youth.

T'challa was the one who encouraged him to reconcile with Tony and reform the Avengers. To bring the family back together again and work out all the issues that plagued them. 

Steve didn't want to at first, he was hesitant, he didn't think he had the right to make the first step. Turns out he didn't have to, they made the step together. He and Tony miraculously messaged each other at the same time and it felt like the universe was making amends with itself. He flew back to the US with T'challa and Erik. Tony arranged for them to meet up at a coffee shop. Steve remembers that day. He cried like a newborn on that day and hugged Tony close too. They made amends with each other and started to slowly bring the family together.

Clint, James and Sam were the first ones back, followed swiftly by Natasha and Bruce. It took some coaxing to get Wanda and Vision back with them, but boy was it worth it. Tony (happily) recruited Peter but the boy wanted to focus on school at first so they gave him an internship instead. T'challa was hesitant to accept the invitation at first but his mother (bless her heart) essentially forced him and Erik to join. Steve knew that the King of Wakanda was happy here though but Erik was different. 

Erik didn't like the suffering he saw and his inability to help. He had dangerous ideas. He almost went down a dark path, _almost_ lost his way.

But then, Thor returned from Asgard and brought with him a "reformed" Loki. Loki and Erik had a heart to heart (that both refuse to ever speak about) and Erik went back to his senses. He and Loki became good friends, both enjoying mischief and pranks and being self-proclaimed anti-heroes. Loki's troublesome behaviour from earlier gathered attention from a magic man (well, Doctor) named Stephen Strange who would become an Avenger, too. Scott Lang joined them after making peace with his family. And after two years of sleep, Bucky came back. 

Their family was together again and it was a lively one. They had family game nights and movie nights. They would talk about the weather and the "big game". They would argue about breakfast. They would stop bad guys from destroying New York (mental note, why was it always New York, Steve pondered) and argue about superpowers. They went on a vacation to Hawaii, together. They celebrated Peter getting into ESU earlier this year, together. They peer pressured him to move into Avengers HQ, together.

Steve rocked back on his bed with a smile plastered onto his face. He was happy. Things turned out to be for the best like this. He wouldn't change any of it. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand. When he looked up to the notification bar, he saw who it was from.

**3 Message(s) From Peter Parker (Spiderman)**

Peter didn't message him too often, so it was either one of two things. One, it was a cute video of some animals or two, it was a "meme". A funny picture with words on it that Peter and many other Avengers found funny. He and Bucky didn't quite get it, but some of the things did make him laugh. Steve hoped for a cute video, it would be a nice way to close off the night before he went to sleep.

He slid his finger to close the book he was reading ("Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe, a reading courtesy of Erik of all people) and opened his messaging app. He had a few unopened messages he had to get around to responding to and reading. Messages from Tony, Wanda and Bruce namely and of course, the Avengers Group Chat that was named "Earth's Mightiest Heros and Two Heroines" courtesy Peter. He opened Peter's "chat" and he felt himself stop. 

His eyes widened and he felt his heart skip a beat as his face became flushed. The words above were simple but it made him feel so many things. So many strange things.

_Won't you be my hero, baby?_

Peter was in a provocative position - his thin legs were open, revealing a moderate bulge that was barely covered by a pair of blue, red and white boxers that were two sizes too small. His small abs were exposed as was his bare chest, allowing Steve to bare witness to the freckled flesh. Since when did Peter have a belly-button piercing? The camera was positioned over his face (which means he took this in front of a mirror). 

The next picture was equally as provocative but this time, lewder. It was a picture of Peter's pretty pink lips wrapped around a phallus-like object (was that a dildo, Steve pondered - he had heard about them from Clint but never seen one) as his cheeks hollowed to take the purple object deep. 

Steve found himself unable to breathe for a minute. The site itself was well, _arousing_ , to say the least. The words repeated inside his head like a siren's seductive song, except this time - it was Peter's voice that was calling to him. He locked his phone and tossed it to the end-table, unable to stare at the image any longer. Or rather, unwilling to. He grabbed his pillow and hugged it tightly, feeling his boxers tighten. His face was flushed red, why would Peter send him something like that? Was Peter even legal yet? Did he want to do something with Steve? Why Steve of all people?

Steve was at least three times his age (mentally and about thirteen years older physically) so there was no way the boy was attracted to him, right? 

Surely he would be attracted to someone like Clint or T'challa, T'challa was _gorgeous_. His chocolate coloured skin was silky smooth, every inch of his body was perfectly toned muscle. He was leaner than Steve, sure but he was strong and hardworking to upkeep that strength. The Black Panther suit didn't do him justice. It hid his sparkly smile, those endearing brown eyes and kind gaze. The man under the mask was a wise ruler and a gentle-hearted friend. He was more than a handsome face, he was beautiful in every sense of the word.

"...ngh," Steve grunted, realising that his thoughts made his problem downstairs worse, "Oh fuck. I gotta do this.." 

His hand slipped beneath his yoga pants and into his boxers, palming himself just a little. He was harder than a rock. His cock was erect, standing like the proud soldier it was. He gripped it tightly, moving his hands upwards and downwards in a slow, tantalising fashion. Just enough to tease it, enough to send the electricity up his spine and create that tingly feeling throughout him.

His mind wandered to Peter. Oh heavens, Peter Parker. He was a boy for crying out loud, at least, compared to Steve he was. You could see the milk in his puffy cheeks and sun-kissed face, his bright eyes and curious gleam. He was thinner than Steve remembered being that age but all those nights he spent studying, working and being "your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman" probably meant that he wasn't getting enough rest to put on weight. Not that Steve mind, his thin figure was attractive in its way and Peter Parker was far from frail. 

"Fuck!" He gasped, squeezing the tip tightly to prevent his orgasm, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The one who scolded the team for using inappropriate language was thinking of filthier things now. He was thinking of how pretty Peter's lips would look wrapped around his cock, licking at the mushroom head and staring up at him with those big doe eyes. Peter seemed like he had a dirty mind, despite that innocent face. He would suck Steve's cock so deeply that he hit the back of his throat, and beg Steve to ejaculate all over him. To dirty his innocent face with Steve's seed.

The thought sent him to the edge, making him breathe heavily and flushing his face red. He was sweating now, jerking himself roughly and quickly as to build up the sweet sensation.

T'challa would be good in bed too, he thought. He was too passive to take control and be a rough lover, T'challa was probably very gentle and kind in bed. Steve's mind conjured up images of them in bed together, their bodies knit so close he could feel T'challa's breath. The King of Wakanda would probably laugh in his arms, litter his face with soft kisses and touch him delicately. He would treat Steve with endless love and fondness, and Steve would shower him in affection in return. Steve would hold him close and bite down on his shoulders, cover his body in hickies and bruises to prove that T'challa was his after all. 

Steve had to bite his pillow to stop him from screaming out and awakening every person (and FRIDAY who was probably monitoring his sudden heart rate change) on the floor. He moaned into it, feeling his toes curl and his back arch as the high hit him. The electric feeling of his cock pouring out the sticky white fluid, draining him of his impure thoughts. 

It took a while for him to ride down that glorious high. For him to catch his breath, to stop bucking his hips and simply exist. He spread himself wide on his bed, legs wide open as he turned his head to look at his stained hand. 

"I...I..." He mumbled, "To Peter and T'challa no less..." 

This feeling in his heart was unfamiliar but he was too tired to take it on. He hadn't done _that_ since he was well, a boy and it was physically taxing to even continue with his eyes open. After wiping his hand clean with the tissues from the Kleenex box that Loki gave him as a joke last Christmas (something about needing to wipe the smile off his face) and tossing it into the trash bin, he drifted fast asleep.


	2. New Message from Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up in his old bedroom in Aunt May's apartment but has trouble recollecting what he did last night. When he realises his big mistake - he gets a message that sends him spiralling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I were to cast anyone to play DJ it would be Tidiou M'Baye without a doubt! His brother ET would be played by Sacha M'Baye too, check out their Instagrams if you can! His brother's name is Eoghan-Tadhg Donnacha O'Callaghan. Please revel with us in how Irish their names are. 
> 
> Pan thinks its too Irish lol but there's no such thing.

**Beep, beep, beep.**

Peter Parker's head hurt like hell and his throat felt so dry it was like waking up inside Stephen Strange's humour. Note to self, Peter mused, the thought of waking up inside Stephen Strange was not something to wake up to. He held his head as he groggily got up in bed, his entire being felt too tired to continue in life. He slammed his hand down on his alarm clock, dreading the morning to come.

_Why did he sign up for early morning classes? Why?_

"Fuck me sideways," Peter cursed, "What the hell did I do last night?"

Whatever he did, it fucked him up. It fucked him up in a way that only fighting Doctor Doom managed to. Peter's memory of that fight was so vivid he could write a book on it. The way how the good doctor managed to beat the daylight out of him was astonishing, how he had to rely on Captain America and Thor to come and save him. He was in the hospital for two weeks, even with his enhanced healing abilities. All the Avengers were worried sick for him but to quote Wanda, he deserved it. 

He told them that Doom was a neighbourhood Spiderman problem and not to worry. He let it escalate to a community problem and then a state-wide issue. Peter Parker had never quite felt like a fuck-up before, but boy did he feel like one when he was lying down in that hospital bed.

He staggered as he walked, the type of stagger that told him that he should be lying down instead of attempting to drag himself to the bathroom.

If it wasn't for his "Peter-Tingle" (Why did May keep calling it that?), he wouldn't have been able to navigate the apartment at all. He didn't think it was possible for him of all people to be so debilitated. He was an enhanced individual, of course, there was no way to completely and incapacitate him. Or so he thought.

He opened the pipe at the sink and washed his face with ice-cold water. It shocked him awake sending a different type of tingle down his spine as he felt himself slowly come to his senses. He opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, quickly grabbing two Advil and swallowing them perfectly dry. Once he felt his headache began to settle, he washed his face and felt himself come to life. He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, knowing fully well that he wasn't going to eat breakfast. He was too nauseous for that. 

A soft sigh escaped him as he dried his hair in a towel, clothed in little but his grey boxers and a Spiderman T-Shirt (yes, he owned his own merchandise). He grabbed his phone to check the time and make sure he was running okay for classes. He had about an hour to make it to class on time - thank the heavens above that web-slinging was faster than taking the subway - so he felt that it was okay to laze around for a bit and check social media and his messages. 

He hopped on his bed and swiped his phone open, greeted by a push notification from his messaging app.

**104 New Messages From 2 Chats**

Peter opened the app curiously, wondering what could have caused so many messages overnight. The first one he saw was from Aunt May, who had messaged him to let him know that she had a flight to Barbados to catch really early so she left the spare keys on the kitchen counter. She sent him kissy-face emojis and told him not to have too many guests over while she was gone. Peter replied that she should have a safe trip and to call when she reached, mentally rolling his eyes at his Aunt. 

He was an Avenger and a double major in Biophysics and Biochemical Engineering for crying out loud - he didn't have the time to throw parties. He barely had time to attend them. And it wasn't to say that he was popular enough for that either. Peter was the nerdy, reserved kid (literally - most of his classmates were well into their twenties) in the back of the class. There was no way they would agree to hang out with them. He opened a chat from one of his classmates, he recognised her profile picture. It was a girl by the name of Christine Dermont, who had sent the majority of the messages. 

_Christine Dermont - Hey Pete! Thought you'd want the pics and vids from last night - you should come drink with us again sometime, it was fun having ya! Maybe next time don't down so many shots we send ya home, kiddo.  
Christine Dermont - Don't forget to drink lots of water and eat a banana, will you? See you in class.  
Attached: 80 Photos  
Attached: 20 Videos_

Peter raised an eyebrow. He didn't remember going drinking with anyone but the evidence was all there. Photos of Peter taking shots with someone unfamiliar (he thinks that guy is in his Number Theory class but isn't sure), dancing on people and looking like he was having the time of his life. Peter was in those pictures but _Peter_ didn't remember doing any of those things. He felt his stomach turn to a knot as he opened a video where his face was in plain view of the camera. 

The camera quality wasn't terrible but the person holding the camera clearly didn't have steady hands. There was soft music playing in the background, something techno or EDM-y and Peter sat by a wooden table doing a shot. He was surrounded by familiar faces. They weren't all in his programs but he had seen them around campus at Empire State. They were all laughing and chatting with him. There was visible smoke in the video and then someone took a drag of a brown paper and blew it in Peter's face. 

_"Hey Peter," A man asked him behind the camera, "How many shots have you done?"  
_ _"I've only done like one shot." Peter said confidently, "And I am as sober as can be."_

 _"Peter, you've done like thirteen of them. We're taking you home, okay? We don't want you getting alcohol poisoning."  
_ _Peter pouted and shook his head, "But I don't wanna go! I'm sober! I can drink more and have more fun!"_

 _"How many fingers am I holding up?" He was holding up three fingers.  
_ _"You can't hold up your fingers if ya got no hands!" Peter said confidently, "I win!"_

 _"Did someone give him weed?" The man with a deep voice asked, "Did someone give my son weed?"  
_ _"I'm not your son," Peter rolled his eyes before smirking, "But I can call you Daddy."_

_"Oh fuck, don't say things like that."_

And that was enough of that. Peter paused the video as his face flushed red in embarrassment. He did more than get drunk at that party, he got high and danced on people. Not only that, the average person gets tipsy with three shots fo pure quality tequila - Peter managed to down thirteen of them! How on earth did his classmates not find that suspicious? Peter groaned at the thought as the memories of last night came rushing in. He buried his face in his pillow as his mind retraced the steps of what happened after he left the party. 

It was a guy named Zayn who dropped him home - a really nice guy who was from Maine who was studying Biophysics with him. He remembers Zayn dropping him off and seeing that he got into the apartment okay. He remembers going to his bedroom and falling onto his bed. When he fell onto his bed, he got a message. It was a simple message but it meant the world to Peter. You see, the person who sent the message was very special. 

He had captured Peter's heart from the minute their eyes met.

He was beautiful, from his caramel coloured skin to his thick curly hair and lily-white smile. From his well-toned muscular chest that just had to be exposed at that moment to his full lips that always seemed to be smirking. His name was Deaglán Jourdain O’Callaghan but folks around ESU just called him DJ and he was the most beautiful man Peter had ever laid eyes on.

His heart almost exploded in his chest when they first met, when Peter picked up the stray basketball that Deaglán was playing with prior. The way how the sweat just seemed to kiss his body, how it was just made to entice Peter even more. The adonis ran over to Peter and thanked him, before asking his name and smiling at him. God, when Deaglán smiled Peter's heart fluttered. 

At first, Peter thought that it was just a physical attraction. Deaglán was hot - pretty much everyone on ESU thought he was hot - and maybe Peter was one of those people too. But, Peter's attraction went beyond that quickly. Peter found an abandoned puppy on his way to school once, so he did the responsible thing and brought it to the veterinary clinic on campus. Deaglán was there. He's studying to become a vet. No one else saw how delicately and gently he treated that puppy. No one else saw the smile in his eyes when he and Peter got it to drink milk. 

That was earlier in the term and they had gotten a little closer, much to Peter's excitement. Deaglán had messaged him about the aforementioned puppy - that he and his brother had adopted it and named it Spidey because of the popular hero and spider-shaped birthmark on its rump. Peter was secretly in his glee - he was Spiderman after all. The two started to chat about superheroes and it revealed how much of a "nerdy guy" Deaglán really was. He was a big fan of superheroes like Captain America and Black Panther but his favourite was Spiderman. 

Peter didn't want to believe it but it was true - it was there in the message logs, Deaglán was a huge Spiderman fan. Because Spiderman seemed like the most "relatable" out of all the Avengers. He seemed the most down to earth. It made his cheeks flush red when he read it. His crush liked him (well, his hero form) and that made him feel something. 

It was coming back to Peter now. He was drunk and Deaglán's words made him feel horny. The other male had no idea what he was doing to Peter, but Peter felt his words go straight up to his brain and then down to his cock. He remembered rummaging through his draws to find something old and tight to wear. He found that and more. He found the purple dildo that MJ bought him last year as a celebration for him coming out of the closet. 

He remembers slipping into that speedo and sitting in front of his old bedroom mirror and taking a selfie. He remembers taking a selfie with the dildo in his mouth. He remembers that the intended recipient was Deaglán. He remembers sending the messages alongside a cheesy caption. 

So why the hell wasn't the messages in Deaglán's chat?

Panic began to spread through Peter's body as he frantically searched his message history. There's no way he could have sent it to the wrong person, right? What if he sent it to Tony, Nick Fury or heavens forbid, Loki - that would be so embarrassing! He would never hear the end of it from any of them! Nick Fury would have stripped of all his SHIELD access privileges! He'd get lectured by Natasha on internet safety! Clint and Erik would call him a pervert! 

It would be the end of his career as a superhero. He'd get kicked out of the Avengers. Peter's heart was racing as he found the message. His eyes widened as his heart sank. 

"Oh heavens," Peter cursed, "Of all people, why did it have to be _him?!"_

Peter had (drunkenly) sent lewd photos of himself to non-other than The First Avenger. America's Golden Boy. The Team Leader. The guy he looked up to. The one who treated him like a _son_ for crying out loud. He sent lewd, almost pornographic pictures of himself to Captain America - Steven "Steve" Grant Rogers!

Peter wanted to die. He wanted to jump off the Empire State Building and cease to exists from the sheer embarrassment a _single_ night had caused him.

And you want to know the worse part? Steve had read it and not responded. He saw Peter in a provocative, compromising position and didn't even bother to comment on it. He probably went straight to Nick Fury to tell him to put Peter on some kind of watchlist. Steve was from the 1930s, he was probably homophobic. He was probably disgusted by Peter's behaviour. 

Peter felt himself begin to shake as a panic attack began to creep upon him. His life was over. His existence was over. He could say goodbye to the happy, sweet life he had built for the past four to five years. He felt his phone vibrate. Against his better wishes, he picked it up. 

**New Message from Deaglán Jourdain O’Callaghan**

Deaglán had messaged him? He might as well read it. If he was going to stop existing soon, he might as well know what his crush has to say before he kicks the bucket. 

_Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: Hey Peter! You must have fallen asleep whilst we were talking, I was waiting on your response :P_   
_Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: Are you free this evening? There's something I want to show you._   
_Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: Can you come to my place?_

Peter must have the worst luck and the best luck in the world. Sure, he accidentally sent nudes to the man he looked up to like a father. Sure, he might get kicked out of the Avengers. Sure, he might lose the scholarship money that Tony was giving him. 

But Peter Parker might have just scored a date with the cutest guy in America and there was no way in hell he was turning him down. 


	3. New Message from Colonel Nicholas "Nick" Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up and goes to breakfast where we see the Avengers in their natural habitat. (No major freakout, yet)
> 
> Fun Fact: Movieverse Cap was born 1918 but Comicverse Steve was born 1922. As this takes place in the MCU, Dan used the latter date as reference for Steve's Age. And ereyesterday is a word, it means the day before yesterday! Victor Strange, Stephen's brother has a very low likelihood of joining the MCU - so we took the liberty of making him *snap* disappear.

Steve Rogers slept like the dead that night and for once in his life – that was a good thing. Dead men tell no tales, nor do they suffer from hellish night terrors that plagued his psyche and forced him to think when he didn’t want to think.

He was used to something different. His best nights were the shaky ones. The ones where he would wake up every hour, stare at a ceiling for two and then fall into that uneasy abyss. For once in his life, the eternal darkness was pleasant. A dreamless existence where he did not have to watch his life’s decisions flicker like an old movie – decisions he regretted, opportunities he should have taken – and that was a blessing in disguise.

Indeed, Steven Grant Rogers felt nothing for once in his life. And sometimes, nothing can be the best goddamn thing a person can feel.

A soft yawn escaped him as he walked into the kitchen and dining space – greeted immediately by the familiar faces of Avengers Tower. It would seem that he was the last to arrive for breakfast, it was half-past nine on the digital clock – he slept in quite late. Bucky and Vince were already washing the used frying pans and dishes but there was no shortage of pancakes and waffles on the kitchen island.

Steve felt the familiar growls of his hungry stomach, a feeling that wasn’t helped by the alluring sweetness of fried batter and the fragrant nodes of high quality, _Jamaican Blue Moutain_ _Coffee_ (the only type Tony would allow to grace his expensive coffee-making equipment). He sat on the grey and white barstool near the island, giving a mid-volume ‘good morning’ as he stretched.

“Morning Captain,” Rhodey greeted as he walked to the coffee machine, “First time I’ve ever seen you sleep in. Usual?”

Steve gave a curt nod and the man smiled as he proceeded to fiddle with a red, white and blue-striped mug and prepared Steve’s all too familiar order. Black, half-tea spoon of sugar. Steve would do it himself, mind you, but Tony forbade him after the last time he almost broke the machine (in Steve’s defense, he had no idea these things were so fragile).

Rhodey slid him the cup, empty plate, knife and fork – Steve helped himself to the rest of breakfast. One sip of the dark liquid was all it took for Steve Rogers to come to life. It was a beautiful drink – it wasn’t bitter but not overly sweet, just a mellow flavor that paired well with everything. As he poured an ounce of syrup onto his waffles, he found himself examining the room.

Almost everyone was in it – breakfast was the one time of the day where everyone usually tried to interact together. Before their hectic, overly dramatic, superhero (earth’s mightiest defenders) schedules took over.

Vincent “Falcon” Falcone and James “Bucky” Barnes were arguing over the appropriate usage of a dishwasher – and no one paid them any mind because they would argue over the slightest disagreement anyways. Steve wondered if FRIDAY was secretly sadistic – that would be why the AI attempted to pair Vince and Bucky at every turn. (That or FRI was trying to make them become friends – Steve would roll in his grave whenever that happened).

Nearby, on the dining table, Thor Odinson was eating alongside Scott “Antman” Lang and Clint “Hawkeye” Barton. The Asgardian Prince was on his third plate by the looks of it, eating a stack of pancakes so high that Steve felt full by looking at it. Scott was grinning at his phone – likely messaging Cassie – almost stabbing himself in the mouth in the process. Clint was simply tired, Nicky Fury sent him on a mission and he hadn’t returned until ereyesterday. Whatever it was, it drained him.

Wanda “Scarlet Witch” Maximoff and Doctor Stephen Strange sat on the sofa softly chatting with their levitating teacups and sandwiches. How befitting that they, alongside Loki, were the only ones to drink tea in the Avengers Tower. Stephen had been teaching Wanda how to better understand her abilities recently, often spending time in the Sanctum where Loki would join them for likeminded chatter. The titular God of Mayhem and Discord (no longer Mischief, he told them) sat opposed them with Erik Killmonger, the two were talking enchantedly about something.

Natasha “Black Widow” Romanoff was scrolling on her iPad, eating a stack of pancakes soaked in overly sweetened syrup. Vision was next to her, watching a video of some kind. Doctor Bruce “Hulk” Banner and Anthony “Iron Man” Stark were seated on a pair of grey pouffes, moving around the pieces of their 3D chess game. Tony was smiling like the Cheshire Cat (not a good look but Steve assumed he was winning) and Bruce sighed in frustration.

This was a normal, early morning for the Avengers and Steve found himself feeling a sense of satisfaction. This is it; this was home. Steve was happy to finally have a home.

“These waffles are delicious,” Steve commented, “My compliments to the chefs.”

Bucky smiled, “You’re welcome, Steve!”

“I believe the Captain was speaking to me, Barnes,” Vincent replied sheepishly, “You senior citizens are so full of yourselves.”

“Careful, kiddo,” Bucky retorted playfully, “This senior citizen can and will whoop your ass.”

“Would you two be quiet!” Tony scolded, “I have Doctor Banner in a corner and I want to savour the sweet taste of my victory. Check.”

Bruce sighed in annoyance as he scratched his head, “That was a good match, Stark. Take your victory lap.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony asked with a smug look, “What does that make the score?”

“The total score is Doctor Banner 249, Tony 250 and the total number of games tied is 1,336,” FRIDAY responded candidly, “Shall I commemorate the occasion, Tony? Today marks the fifth year of your daily chess matches.”

“You’ve been playing the same game for five years,” Thor said as he finished his pancakes, “I fail to comprehend it. I could never, it’s too boring.”

“Brother, your ability to comprehend things has never been your strongest suit,” Loki quipped, “Do not stress your pretty little head.”

Thor snorted, “Watch your tongue brother or I’ll throw you out the window and you’ll land in Asgard.”

“If we’re throwing things out,” Scott interrupted, “Can I throw away my old suit? I’ve been doing some upgrades and I got parts to throw away.”

“Your timing is as bad as your accuracy, Scott,” Stephen added, “If you were any worse, I’d start to worry.”

“Not everyone has years of medical school under their belt, _Doctor_ Strange,” Natasha rolled her eyes, “Besides, I can’t tell which is worse Scott’s accuracy or your humour.”

“I agree with the Russian,” Erik nodded, “I’ve seen deserts in Africa that moister, man. You gotta up your game.”

“Listen to Killmonger,” Wanda said with a grin, “He knows all about getting things wet.”

If Vision had eyebrows, he would have raised them. There were collective snorts and it took Steve more than a minute to register why. Oh. That’s where things were headed this morning. The Avengers were all consenting adults - they could engage in raunchy, dark and lewd humour whenever they wanted to. It wasn't often but when it did happen, everyone usually had something to add. 

“Pray do tell,” Vision said as he closed the video, “What do you, Wanda Maximoff know about Erik’s ability to make things wet?”

Wanda took a sip of her tea and smiled, “I’ve seen the reviews in his Instagram comments. Would highly recommend reading them, it’s a gold mine.”

“My favourite comments are the ones about Erik’s thighs,” Natasha nodded, “Apparently there are a lot of girls and guys out there who want to be squeezed by them.”

“That is ludicrous,” Loki said with disbelief, “Everyone knows the best part of Killmonger is his beautiful smile! I’m offended that anyone would think otherwise!”

Stephen chuckled, “Didn’t know you were such a Killmonger fan, Loki.”

“He’s the only fan I need, Doc,” Erik grinned as he pulled a blushing Loki close, “I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a literal god as their fanboy?”

“See, Vis,” Tony said with a smile, “Erik is too busy worshipping Loki’s nonexistent ass to try to steal your girl.”

“Exactly,” Rhodey commented, “Unless Erik develops a vibrate function, you’re good.”

“Too far!” Vincent pointed his fingers at Rhodey, “Goddamnit, Rhodey – that was too far!”

“Stop acting like a prude,” Bucky narrowed his eyes at him, “It’s unbecoming of a man so young.”

“I agree with Vincent,” Scott shook his head, “There are a lot of things I don’t wanna know about. The practicality of Wanda-Vision sex is one of them. I mean, how does he even do it – he has KEN DOLL anatomy for crying out loud!”

“Maybe it’s like a sheath,” Clint offered an explanation, “Like you know a dog's, it can pop out when his arousal parameters are high enough.”

“Had I known that Vision’s genitalia or lack thereof would be the topic of conversation,” a familiar voice called to them, “I would have skipped breakfast.”

The group turned to the source of the voice and Steve turned his head too, he was greeted by the most attractive man he had ever seen. T’challa, King of Wakanda and the current Black Panther looked damn fine in his newest suit. Outfits like this reminded Steve that T’challa was royalty. He exuded an aura of wealth, extravagance and influence that not even Tony, with his billionaire status, could rival.

The King of Wakanda looked _damn_ good. The suit was black – embellished with thin strips of gold along the front lapel and collar. He wrote a deep black shirt and a matching golden tie. Accessorized with a gold and diamond watches, a few golden rings and even a singular gold stud pierced his right ear. T’challa was gorgeous. T’challa was always gorgeous.

“Damn!” Erik wolf-whistled, “Looking fresh, Cuz. Take it you got official business to attend to?”

T’challa scoffed, “Yes and I thankfully, do not require your attendance.”

“You can’t be more thankful than me,” Erik retorted, “Sitting in a room with those wonder-bread looking, cousin-fucking smartasses who think that Wakanda’s some kind of sixth world poor nation? Nah, I’m cool.”

“Killmonger,” Loki said in a warning tone, “I’ll hex your tongue if you speak such vulgar language in my presence.”

“I wanted to announce that Shuri would be visiting us in about three weeks’ time,” T’challa said as he ignored them, “I know that Natasha, Wanda and Peter enjoy her presence.”

“Hell yeah we do!” Natasha cheered, “We can have a girl’s night!”

“Oh fuck,” Erik swore as he sighed, leaning into Loki’s chest, “Princess is coming? Love her to death, don’t get me wrong but protecting two Wakandan Royals? What am I? A Dora Milaje? Is my name Okoye?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “On behalf of Okoye, I am offended by that statement.” 

“Speaking of Peter Sparkles,” Clint interrupted, “Where is the spider-boy? I vaguely remember him asking about training today.”

“And he asked me for help with his Number Theory homework,” Scott nodded, “It’s not like him to skip breakfast.”

Tony smiled as he stole one of Stephen and Wanda’s floating sandwiches, munching before he spoke.

“Is this…vegetarian cheese?” He said with mild disgust, “Anyhow, Peter Parker picked a six pack of Presidente and went to party. Partying was Peter Parker throughout the night. Peter Parker partied profusely and became party pooped, so Peter Parker went to sleep at Aunt May’s last night.”

“Must you speak in riddles, man of iron?” Thor stated plainly, “I grow tired of hearing you use so many unnecessary words.”

“Your existence is unnecessary.” Stephen responded coldly, “So the lad partied too hard and slept it off at Aunt May’s? Reminds of my med-school days. We used to do shots in the bar until five and show to class at seven.”

“This is why medical interns will always terrify me,” Scott shuddered, “They’ll be operating on you and you smell the alcohol on them but their so precise. It’s uncanny.”

“My little Peter is growing up,” Natasha sniffled, “One minute he’s asking for advice on dates, next minute he’s doing shots and blacking out at three in the morning.”

“I am just as proud as you are,” Bruce nodded, “I was beginning to worry he didn’t have a social life.”

Loki snorted, “I assure you, Doctor Banner, that Peter has more of a social life than you ever will.”

“Play nice, Loki or we’ll have to put you in time out,” Vincent waved his finger disappointedly, “And we both know that you don’t want that.”

“Stop acting like such a _Dad_ , Vincent,” Bucky groaned next to him, “That’s Captain’s job!”

Tony gasped in false disappointment, “I thought I was the _Iron Dad_ since you know, Peter is _my kid.”_

“Bitch please,” Wanda sipped her tea, “Peter looks up to Steve and Stephen more than he looks up to your alcoholic ass.”

“For the better,” Scott nodded, “You aren’t exactly a high-quality role model, Tony. I would rather Peter look up to men like Steve, Stephen and T’challa. They’re great role models.”

Clint moaned, “Why am I not included?”

“With all due respect, Barton, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with Peter looking up to a…Shield Agent mostly known for his assassinations,” Vision retorted, “We did all agree to give Peter a healthy family life.”

“Touché, Vision, touché.”

"I for one take the responsibility of role model very seriously," Stephen said as he sipped a teacup, "And I'd like to think that my guidance has helped Peter in a brotherly fashion. I didn't have any siblings growing up, so it is nice to be there for someone."

"How do you feel about it, Captain?"

Steve was frozen in his tracks - like a deer in headlights. His right hand held firmly onto his fork as his left clutched the knife, a piece of waffle missing from his breakfast platter. His eyes went wide as memories from the night before began to flood his head. The message. The compromising outfit. The position. The filthy images of Peter Parker circulating inside his head and the equally squalid ones of T'challa. The thought of Peter Parker's lips wrapped around his cock. The thought of kissing T'challa's naked body until they were both nothing but laughter and cuddled close.

The realisation that Steve Grant Rogers _masturbated_ to his teammate and best friend. The guy who helped him rebuild his _family_. Steve Grant Rogers _masturbated_ to a boy he spent the last five years of his life raising. The boy who looked up to him as a _superhero_.

Steve's eyes went wide as the thought sank in, he placed his cutlery down onto the island's marble countertop and leaned back, pinching his nose bridge. Perhaps God was on his side, despite the grave sin he had just committed because it was nothing short of a miracle that Steve didn't have to actually look Peter in the face right about now. How could he? How could he look either Peter or T'challa in the face? 

_He jerked off to them!_

"Are you alright, Steve?" T'challa asked concernedly as he walked over to the island counter, "Headache?"

Steve nodded, avoiding eye contact, "Yeah, it's been pretty nasty since I woke up." 

"Go back to your room and lie down then," T'challa said quietly, his hand wandering to grip Steve's shoulder, "We can't have our greatest Avenger off his game." 

"You worry about me too much," Steve chuckled weakly, "But thank you." 

T'challa smiled at him and walked off, the rest of the Avengers seemed to take the hint and continued chatting amongst themselves. Steve's shoulder felt..tingly. It was an unfamiliar sensation that lingered where T'challa had touched him. He shook his head and finished his coffee quickly, actively choosing not to think about the questions that were forming inside his head. He left his dishes on the island, thanking Bucky and Vincent for breakfast, before skipping off to his personal bathroom to soak his head in ice-cold water.

He had to think, well, straight. To organise the millions of thoughts racing in his head and try to stop the images of the people he cared for in such compromising positions from leaking into his thoughts again.

He felt...disgusted with himself. 

T'challa was so kind and supportive. Peter just made a drunken mistake. Why couldn't he have just laughed at the image and move on? Why did he have to be such an awful perverted soul to think about these people in such lewd ways? To think about men, no less.

Steve Grant Rogers was a disgusting man, he told himself.

He sighed as he left the bathroom, glancing at his phone screen that lit up with a notification.

**New Message from Colonel Nicholas "Nick" Fury**

What the hell did Fury want from him now? Steve sighed as he opened the message.

_Colonel Nicholas "Nick" Fury: Rogers. We have an assignment for you and your team that needs to be debriefed in person. It's a matter of national security._

Oh fuck. What trouble was America in now?


	4. New Message from Tony "Iron Man" Stark (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter visits the home of his crush and is enthusiastic about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a theory on Tumblr that Peter's middle name changes depending on who's playing him. Pan and I liked it XD so Peter Benjamin-Tom Parker was born. And after a long discussion, Pan and I decided to make this a little plot heavier than originally intended. Sorry it took so long! And that it's cut off awkwardly, but we promise the part 2 of this scene will make it oh so worth it!
> 
> PS: We tried centring the messages to make it easier on the eyes, was that better or do you prefer left-align?

**New Message from Tony “Iron Man” Stark**

_Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: Can you come to my place?  
Peter Parker: Sure! What time is good for you?  
Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: When does your class finish? Does 5 pm work for you?   
Peter Parker: Sounds great! Send me the address and I'll be there, on time.  
Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: :heart_eyes: we love a man who handles time responsibly.  
Peter Parker: Shaddup, :rofl:  
Deaglán-Jourdain O’Callaghan: :heart eyes: :heart eyes: :heart eyes:_

Peter Parker was a very excitable person. 

He was an empath – the type of person who could connect with others easily. The kind that had the uncanny ability to read emotions and read the room. If you were excited, he was excited _for you_ and if he was excited – Peter Benjamin Tom Parker was very, _very_ excited.

One could only imagine the sheer joy on his face (and in his heart) as he spent the rest of the day awaiting a visit to Deaglán's house. He was on cloud nine, barely paying attention to his professors and his friends as they chatted with him.

This blurred ecstasy and excitement led to the ignoring of MJ’s texts until the very last minute in which he had to reply or she would be concerned about him. Michelle Jones was his best friend, it was a shame she went all the way to SoCal but a scholarship to a performing arts school was more than worth it. She helped him when he wasn’t sure of himself and encouraged him to go outside his comfort zone.

They were both equally flourishing in their new environments, Peter was happy for her.

She had messaged him a picture of a dog wearing a cat costume, with an equally silly caption accompanied by a news article about some turtles with a newly discovered genetic disease. MJ proceeded to go onto a rant about how irresponsible some people were and how she wished that they’d take saving the turtles seriously.

It made him feel guilty about the single-use plastic straw he had just thrown out with his Frappuccino but remembering that he had to choose the perfect outfit to hang out with Deaglán made him happier.

There wasn’t much to work with at Aunt May’s house.

Most of his _good_ clothes were at Avenger’s Tower and Peter wanted to avoid that place like the plague had come back to haunt them. He didn’t want to dress up too much and make it seem like he was desperate to Deaglán but too little and he wouldn’t show off his assets.

Black skinny jeans clung to his figure alongside a black-and-red Led Zepplin band-tee that was a size too small. It clung to his well-deserved lean yet muscular figure well. He threw on some black sneakers to match, alongside a couple silver rings and a dog tag that Tony got him.

“This is…” Peter paused as he stared into the mirror, “I look one piercing away from working at _Hot Topic_. When did I ever decide punk was a good look on me? This is awful.”

And then, he spotted it. A red plaid-sleeved jean-jacket and some hipster glasses. Suddenly, Peter felt less like a disgruntled goth and more like himself. He smiled widely, checking himself out. He looked cute. This was a look, a very cute look. He bit his lip and grabbed his phone – posing in front of the mirror for a quick mirror-pic for the gram.

His personal Instagram, of course - Spiderman’s Instagram was sixty-percent web-slinging shots, twenty percent brand promotions and twenty-percent Avengers regulated PR.

The caption was simple but effective: _You make me wanna dress up and look all pretty, but you don’t ever seem to notice what you do to me._

A teasing glimpse into his reality – he pressed post and didn’t think much of it again. His next debate lied within the realm of ‘fanny pack or wallet’. Wallets were the better choice – it had everything he needed, and he could always chuck his phone into his other pocket. Should he wear a beanie? No, a beanie was too much.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

The soft buzz of his phone as the formerly dark screen lit up signified someone was calling him. Much to his surprise, it turned out to be Deaglán. Peter’s brows knitted together in worry. What happened? Did their date get cancelled?

"Hello? Peter Parker speaking." He answered as he slipped his keys into his pocket, "Deaglán?"

“The one and only. I saw your post and had to say, you look damn fine.”

Peter chuckled as his cheeks turned pink, “You could have said that in person you know.”

“Nah, see I’m from Ireland. We say that shit upfront,” Deaglán’s husky voice purred in his ears, “Makes me wish I was taking you somewhere nice and fancy.”

“There’s always another time and the view is _always_ better in person. I’m heading over to your place now.”

Deaglán’s voice turned sour and Peter’s heart skipped a beat, “That’s actually why I called. I gotta stay at the clinic a little later. Someone just brought in a very pregnant chihuahua. The senior vet asked me to stay for a bit. I’ll be home by about six, my guess? If that’s too late for you we can cancel-”

“No, no! I’m available for the whole night!”

Peter could feel the smirk that was growing on Deaglán’s lips from the other end of the call. The deep Irish chuckle was more than enough to send him stammering.

“Uhm, I mean – not like a _hooker_ or something! I, uhm, I guess – I guess I’m trying to say I have no plans tonight?”

Deaglán snorted, “Oh Please, Peter. You’d be a terrible hooker. You’re more of _sugar baby_.”

Peter smiled coyly, “Is that so? If I’m a sugar baby does that mean you want me to call you _Daddy_?”

“Daddy, huh? It’s on the list but I have other ideas.”

Should he stoke the fire?

“Like what?”

He stoked it.

“You’re gonna have to come over to find out,” Deaglán laughed, “You got my address, right? The spares are in the plant pot near the front door. ET should be home but he's usually by the pool at this hour. Don't bother knocking, just chill in the living room. The kitchen and bar are yours.”

"You leave your spares in a plant pot? That's brave of you." 

"We live in one of New York's richest suburbs, Parker," Deaglán said dryly, "I have a higher likelihood of being held for tax fraud or treason than theft. Then again neither of those things matter when you have a skin tone like mine."

“Please be safe.” Peter frowned, “Please.”

“If I ever get arrested for a crime I didn’t commit, you’ll be the first to know.”

Peter laughed sarcastically, "Har har. Well, I'll see you this evening I guess." 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Deaglán replied, "See you later, alligator."

"In a while crocodile." 

It took most of Peter’s energy to resist the urge to squeal when Deaglán hung up the phone.

Fuck. This boy ended his conversations in a nursery rhyme. Fuck. Fuck.

It should illegal that one human being is allowed to bet his attractive. This charming. This sweet. And his voice, fuck, fuck, fuck – that voice was enough to wake Peter Parker from a coma should he ever end up in one. The coarseness of his tone combined with the sensuality of his accent.

Not enough to overpower his speech but just enough to flavour it. Speaking like that should be outlawed.

Peter took a deep breath, throwing his subway pass into his pocket and taking one last look into the mirror. He was cute. He was ready. And if things went well, maybe - just maybe this would end with them naked in Deaglán's bed or cuddling. Or both, both would be good. He was about to slide his phone into his pocket when he felt it vibrate.

He looked at the notification on the top of the bar. His eyes widened in sheer horror. 

**4 New Message(s) from Tony "Iron Man" Stark**

And suddenly, without warning, the high of being with Deaglán for the evening vanished.

It was filled with the existential dread that came with the mental reminder that Peter Benjamin Tom Parker sent a lewd selfie to Steve Rogers, Captain America. It wasn’t even a _good selfie._

He felt his forehead burst into beads of nervous sweat as his finger hovered above the message. Was this it? Did Steve tell Tony about last night’s accident? Was Peter Parker about to be kicked out of the Avengers over a drunken text message?

He would never live this down. He would lose his scholarship. He would lose the trust and respect of the Avengers. He was going to be _that_ weirdo. He was going to lose his heroes, and that was the reality that scared him most of all.

Squeezing his phone a little too tightly, he opened the message.

_Tony "Iron Man" Stark: Hey Kid, just checking in on ya. Are you feeling better?_   
_Tony "Iron Man" Stark: Make sure to drink plenty of water and try not to overdo it alright, Pete?_   
_Tony "Iron Man" Stark: You can stay at Aunt May's tonight but you better be home tomorrow._   
_Tony "Iron Man" Stark: Cap says there's an important announcement from Fury.  
Wonder what it's about :thinking:_

A sigh of relief escaped him, but that breath was quickly shoved back inside like a cock into an anal cavity without prep. He was fucked. Peter Parker was _royally_ fucked.

Even if Steve Rogers didn’t tell Tony and he didn’t lose everything over text message, suddenly that felt a hundred times better than being ousted in front of everyone. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was from a different era. Steve was probably homophobic. Very, very homophobic.

Steve probably thinks that Peter is a disgusting human being who should seek help at the nearest Conversion Camp.

His brain conjured the image in great detail. The scowl of disappointment on Steve’s face. How much he would tell him to read the bible and ‘pray the gay’ away. That his existence was a crime, a sin so horrible that he deserved to be damned for all of his life. He was worthless. He was wrong. Everything he felt was wrong.

Peter looked into the mirror one more time. A shiver of discomfort going down his spine as he stared into the mirror.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” He said quietly, “There’s nothing wrong with liking guys.”

Yet somehow, the words felt hollow compared to the Steve-shaped voice in his head telling him otherwise.

Peter shook his head, “Come on, Parker! You’re about to visit the house of the guy you’ve been crushing on since you entered ESU. You might get laid. You can do this!”

_And who cares if you don’t get Steve’s approval! You’ll be happy with yourself, regardless!_

A few thinly veiled words of encouragement later – he sent a simple ‘okay will do’ text to Tony. This was mainly to stop the older male from accusing him of ghosting, which Peter was positive Tony didn’t understand the concept of.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Peter took a deep breath. And another. And another.

And one last deep breath before he locked up Aunt May’s apartment and waited downstairs for an Uber to pull up.

Deaglán wasn’t lying when he said he lived in one of New York’s richest suburbs – the houses here made Hollywood Hills look like dollhouses – but Peter was still genuinely impressed. Everything looked so sleek, modern and affluent. There were luxury cars driving down the lanes – Peter thought he saw it all in Erik’s garage in Wakanda.

Then again, Erik's cars could hover off the ground and were literally bulletproof.

Yet still, the boy from Queens was impressed. 

They arrived at the house – an admittedly humbler abode than the fanciful mansions that surrounded it – but still a beautiful property, nonetheless. He walked up to the front door and slid his hand into the grey plant pot that sat empty on a window ledge. Once he felt the key, he grabbed it and smiled smugly.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching him (he’d feel guilty otherwise) – he unlocked the door with a soft click. Peter Parker took one last deep breath before he opened the door, walking in slowly.

The foyer was elegant. A grey and white colour-platte with an open arch to the right and the beginning of an L-Shaped Staircase to the left. Above hung a large crystal chandelier, made with what he assumed to be real diamonds. The floor was a slate grey wood – to his immediate left a wooden side table and a large portrait of the family who lived here. Deaglán’s family. 

Peter placed the keys down on a metal tray before staring at the portrait intensely.

He recognized Deaglán instantly. The boy on the left with the bright smile. Next to him was the one he assumed to Eoghan, or ET, his brother. Eoghan was older, more mature than Deaglán. Peter suspected a large age gap between them – from the way Deaglán talked they didn’t sound particularly close-knit. His dark hair was shaved, and he had the faintest whispers of a moustache above his lips. Between them, on a red armchair, was a silver-haired woman with fair skin and bright green eyes. A grey cat curled on her lap; she had an intimidating look.

Was that their grandmother? She looked far too elderly to be their mother. 

Peter continued through the archway, revealing a spacious living area to the left with connected dining and kitchen. It was very open and spacious with large windows allowing natural light to pool in. The colour palette continued throughout it seemed, with splashes of red added to bring life to the rooms. 

He found himself sinking into the grey sofa, sighing to himself as his thoughts finally managed to catch up with him. They were no longer about the Avengers (despite the lingering voice in his head that told him about how disappointed Cap must be) but about how nervous he secretly was to hang out with Deaglán privately.

It made his hand shake a little bit, the idea that they would be alone together.

That there was something Deaglán wanted to show him, him alone. The idea that he might be special enough to the dark-skinned Irishman for that to happen was enough to make a smile and a blush line his cheeks.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” a heavy voice disrupted his thoughts, “Sittin’ on that couch all cute and innocent. I've seen what you do when you think no one's watching." 


End file.
